


Bad Things Happen - KLANCE

by celtoreo



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Bad Things Happen Bingo, M/M, no this is really sad, prompts in title, requests in comments
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2020-01-07 02:39:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18401462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celtoreo/pseuds/celtoreo
Summary: Basically I write angsty, painful little drabbles about Keith Kogane and Lance McClain and put them in this specific fic. If I get requests with other characters, I'll put them in a different one. But basically I take this bingo card;https://docs.google.com/document/d/1fgvgpzqaCJ2LvpW7wTtCRfHMrXnygdzmXdUtevpbe3g/edit?usp=sharingand someone gives me characters/etc, and I write about them in that situation.it's radgo to badthingshappenbingo on tumblr to get your own cardput requests in the comments if you could, or- add me on discord toast#3325





	1. Strapped to a Bomb

**Author's Note:**

> “You have three minutes and fifty-seven seconds,” Lance told him then, keeping his voice steady. Then he smiled, or smiled as best he could given the life-or-death situation he had been placed in. “Feel free to make jokes about that as you see fit.”
> 
> A strangled laugh came from the phone, then, “Wow, really? That’s how long you last?”
> 
> And Lance smiled a little bit brighter. “Longer than you, mullet.”

When Lance woke up, his head was pounding. He could taste coppery blood on his tongue, and could feel a burning sensation flowing down the middle of his back, like someone was pouring molten lava down his spine. He gasped and attempted to twist away from the pain but he couldn’t- the ropes keeping him held in place were tough, tied around his torso and the both of his wrists.

 

He hissed frustratedly, shaking his head as he attempted to get his blurry vision to focus. All he remembered was being ambushed. This mission was supposed to be easy- an in and out. Bust in, eliminate the target, and bust out. It shouldn’t have been this way. He could feel his heartbeat beginning to pick up as the panic started to set in. Where was he? The room was dark, except for the faint red light that came from a small distance away, but then it wasn’t dark anymore, and the bright unforgiving white light that hit his eyes stunned him.

 

“Lance, can you hear me?” a calm yet still shaky voice said, and Lance, still recoiling, huffed a sharp breath. Keith. Of course it was Keith. His head hit whatever was behind him, and when the pain began to burn brighter, he cursed in quiet Spanish. He had to figure out what was going on and why he was here and where he was. Then, maybe, would the mulleted dunderhead be able to find him. 

 

Lance looked around, searching for something, anything to help him. It was an entirely white room, bland and empty with no real defining factors. The bastards that had thrown him in here had been smart enough to draw black curtains over the large windows, but they ever so often fluttered with an unfelt breeze. A black clock with red numbers was steadily ticking down. It was at 4:57 when he looked to check himself out. He was tied with his feet sprawled out in front of him, and there was a phone with the receiver laid a small distance from him, where Keith’s voice spoke again. “Lance, please…” Then there was the sound of wind.

 

“Y-yeah, yeah I can hear you,” he said finally, spitting a gob of bloody spit onto the ground. He heard Keith sigh shakily and something in his heart clenched. “They don’t have you, right? You’re okay?” The Cuban knew that Keith could be a dumbass but they were partners. Maybe sometimes a little bit more than partners. But that was something not to be thinking about right in this moment. 

 

“I’m okay. They dropped me outside of town.” He heard Keith take another deep breath and heard him shuffle. “They gave me this phone and… my motorcycle.” His voice cracked and Lance shook his head, scowling. If Keith was this emotional something had to be wrong. His gaze lifted back to the timer. 4:30. That’s when the realization hit him.

 

“Keith, you’re telling me everything, right?” he asked softly, careful to not indicate the way that the panic spreading like a flame through his chest was only getting worse.

 

“They told me you’re strapped to a bomb. They said that I won’t find you in time and I don’t even know how much time I have-” Keith cut off, and then there was the sound of wind again. That fuzzy sound when someone is talking on the phone to you and driving. Keith was driving. Searching for him, even though he was strapped to a bomb.

 

That was what the fire feeling was. It was hot. Ready to blow.

 

The thought hit Lance that he might just die here. That the last time he hugged his mother would actually be the last time. That the last time he flirted with a person was the pick-up line he had given Keith this morning, stupid and cheesy and only intended to make him blush. That he would watch that god-forsaken clock turn from one to zero, and then everything he had ever known would be blown away.

 

But he had to focus. It was his job to focus. It was his job to breathe. To level his sights on a target and make sure the job was done to full completion. If he panicked, if he gave in to the weakness every part of him so wanted to feel, he would die, and no one, not even Keith, could help him.

 

So Lance took a deep breath. “Okay,” he said, and that’s when Keith figuratively exploded.

 

“Okay? Are you fucking kidding me? Lance, I don’t know where you are and you’re strapped to a fucking bomb- that’s not fucking  _ okay!”  _ he shouted, his voice picking up with speed, growing more and more angry and… scared. 

 

“Keith, shut the fuck up,” Lance replied calmly, or as calmly as he could. His voice probably shook a little but he didn’t care, looking at the timer. 4:11. 4:10. 4:09. “You need to breathe. We need to breathe.” Then there was a few seconds of only that staticy sound, and he closed his eyes. “Okay?”

 

“I… okay.”

 

4:04. 4:03. Lance inhaled. 4:02. 4:01. And exhaled.

 

“Okay?” he murmured softly.

 

“Okay,” Keith whispered back.

 

“You have three minutes and fifty-seven seconds,” Lance told him then, keeping his voice steady. Then he smiled, or smiled as best he could given the life-or-death situation he had been placed in. “Feel free to make jokes about that as you see fit.”

 

A strangled laugh came from the phone, then, “Wow, really? That’s how long you last?”

 

And Lance smiled a little bit brighter. “Longer than you, mullet.” 

 

A wheeze of a laugh, then another breath. “Tell me what you can see.” Good. Keith was thinking strategically now. Not that it would really help anything.

 

“I can’t see shit. It’s a white room… black curtains, big windows. There’s not really anything that gives me one god damn clue where this place is,” he replied, his eagle eyes searching for anything that might give him a tip. He had skimmed over one corner before something- a change in the color of the wall, gave him a little spasm of hope in his chest. 

 

_ Kuron Industries.  _ There was a warehouse in the city that had recently been revamped, one that they said was going to mean great things for everyone that lived there. Maybe it was in the sense that it would end up blowing up, making trauma, and probably damaging a lot of other buildings. 

 

“Kuron Industries, the warehouse,” he blurted, and then he heard the wind getting louder, as if Keith was speeding up. “On 80th street, please be careful.”

 

“Got it. I’m on main and cutting alleys so ETA is around a minute... Can you get out of there?”

 

“Keith, if I could, I would have already,” Lance retorted bluntly. He couldn’t help but glance to the clock. 3:33. How ironic. He made a wish that time would tick slower in here and faster for Keith but it didn’t seem to work. 3:32. 3:31. 3:30.

 

“God, I’m so sorry this happened,” Keith mumbled, and Lance shook his head.

 

“Don’t get all guilty on me now, hot stuff. Focus. You’ll get here and we’ll defuse this thing and get out and everything will be fine. Okay?” There was another short silence, and Lance closed his eyes, letting his head drop forwards. “Besides, it’s not your fault. Neither of us expected it. I don’t think Allura did, either.”

 

“I should have known…” God, Keith just wasn’t dropping it, was he?

 

A sharp laugh escaped him. “Known what? Keith. It is  _ not your fault.  _ Want me to spell it out in morse code for you? Or are you hearing me?” His voice came out a little harsher than intended but what could you expect? He was strapped to a bomb, for god’s sakes. 

 

“I hear you.”

 

“Just breathe, okay? Don’t get all caught up in that beautiful head of yours. We’ll be okay.”

 

And then there was a strained, yet soft, “Mhm,” and Lance’s heart gave this little flutter of hope, because maybe he really cared for Keith, and maybe he just really wanted to see him turn out okay. But then another mostly quiet thirty seconds passed, and then the wind stopped, and he couldn’t hear anything, and that was when he pushed himself out of his thoughts to ask.

 

“Keith? Are you here?”

 

Another few seconds of silence. 2:16. 2:15.

 

“Keith, please, we don’t have time for this, come untie me.”

 

2:12. 2:11.

 

“Keith?”

 

“It’s not here.”

 

And that was when Lance’s world began to crumple around him.

 

“The warehouse. It’s- they destroyed it. It’s not here. You couldn’t be here-”

 

Wall after wall of the reality he had hoped for had not only fallen, they had fallen on top of the cuban, crushing any sort of breath from his lungs, any and every beat of his heart. He stared blankly at the Kuron Industries logo on the wall. He was in a different warehouse. They had gotten him so far away that…

 

There was no way that Keith could reach him in two minutes.

 

“Lance, what do I need to do?” Keith’s desperate voice rose through the telephone, and Lance looked back down to it, a lump the size of a baseball in his throat. He didn’t know. He didn’t know, there was nothing that they could do. But then that asshole started to talk again, “There’s another warehouse in the next city- I’ll head there, I’ll head-”

 

“Keith, no,” Lance said sharply. “It is pointless. You’re not going to reach Koe City in two minutes.”

 

“Then what do I need to- Lance, I can’t just-” Keith was starting to sob at this point. It sent jolts of pain through his chest- there was nothing else that he wanted to do other than reassure him that everything was going to be alright. That they would reunite soon. But they weren’t going to.

 

1:49. 1:48.

 

“You need to let me go,” he said softly, and then he heard another broken stream of sobs and curses, and hot tears formed in his own eyes. 

 

“No- I’m not going to- I’m going to go to Koe City, and I swear to god Lance if you’re not there waiting for me-”

 

“The bomb will have exploded by then.”

 

“No, it won’t!” Keith shouted, and then he heard the wind pick up again, this time faster than anything before. And Lance’s chest hitched, his eyes flicking to the timer as tears began to stream down his cheeks.

 

1:20. 1:19. 1:18.

 

“Keith, please,” he whispered, and there was only that static to respond to him. Then he squeezed his eyes shut, and it felt like as soon as he did that he heard this horrible howling sound, and then there was that flat, monotone sound that said that the call had been ended, and a horrible shudder took his whole body.

 

Now he couldn’t even talk to anyone, and there was a minute left. 

 

And there was no need to be calm, because there was no one to hear him scream. And so he screamed. He thrashed, he kicked at the phone, he kicked at the clock, he kicked at the ground and anything he could reach because he was angry, he was scared, and Keith had just left him like this. Alone. Without hope. 

 

He glared at the clock, his cheeks burning, teeth grit, once he had finally worked himself to the point of the exhaustion. Thirty seconds left. Twenty nine. His eyes clenched shut of their own accord, and his chest was heaving, deep shuddering breaths that did little to accurately fill his lungs. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t face this.

 

But then his last thought was that of Keith. Of violet eyes that lit up in the vaguest way when he saw him, of the smile that grew rosy whenever he was complimented.

 

And Lance would love to have it put this way, that he went out with a bang.

 


	2. Crying into Chest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hey, Keith. Are you okay?”
> 
> No, oh god he wasn’t okay. There were a lot of reasons why he wasn’t. One was that he couldn’t figure out how in the hell a person as beautiful as Lance was standing in front of him right now. Another ws that he literally had no idea how Lance was standing in front of him because people don’t just lose contact for eight hours in space and actually end up being alive. 
> 
> Thank you, literally every sci-fi movie Keith had seen ever.

Keith was never really an emotional person. He couldn’t be. Not when all he had ever known was the loss of the people he was close to, when he was bullied for things he couldn’t control, when the only power he had over his own life was the power he used to rise. He had to focus. And the chaos that always swirled in the depth of his stomach was something he would have to deal with later. Because then he became the Red Paladin, and everything Keith ever knew changed in an instant.

But now? Fuck not feeling things. He couldn’t hold this one back. When Lance had stumbled out of his lion and into the hangar, it was like a balloon filled with boiling water had burst in his chest. The half-Galra could barely breathe until he saw those blue eyes, couldn’t move when he saw that apologetic smile, couldn’t hear when Lance began to speak.

 

Lance had been sent out on a mission for some reason. He couldn’t remember why. It was like it had all been swallowed by his panic. But Lance had been sent out alone. And at first, the comms had been working just fine. He was confident and even flirting with him on the way there. Because duh, why wouldn’t he?

 

God, he hated to say it, but he did love him.

 

But then, the comms had just cut out. And they had stayed cut out for eight whole hours. And Keith has not gotten one wink of sleep in at least thirty-six. But he didn’t care. He just wanted Lance to come home, alive.

 

Keith stood there, frozen, as the other paladins had a chat with Lance. As Shiro grasped his arm, as Hunk and Pidge hugged him, as Allura helped him with his armor and Coran took it away. He just stood there, trying to remember how to breathe in a time like this, where the person that he could call the love of his life had gone away for so long and could have been dead but was somehow back now with that stupidly glorious and sweet smile on his face. 

 

Okay, maybe it was easier to admit that he loved Lance than he first implied, but the overwhelming urge to start crying or to maybe punch him only intensified as Lance grew closer. As a mocha hand reached up to brush mahogany curls from a freckled forehead, as blue eyes softened, not just blue but blue, and as he finally said something Keith heard. 

 

“Hey, Keith. Are you okay?”

 

_ No, oh god he wasn’t okay.  _ There were a lot of reasons why he wasn’t. One was that he couldn’t figure out how in the hell a person as beautiful as Lance was standing in front of him right now. Another ws that he literally had no idea how Lance was standing in front of him because people don’t just lose contact for eight hours in space and actually end up being alive. 

 

Thank you, literally every sci-fi movie Keith had seen ever. 

 

Keith felt like he had lost focus for just a second, and suddenly he had grasped Lance’s hand and was leading him out of the hangar. He didn’t care about what the other paladins were saying and when he cast a blurry glance black at the blue paladin, he didn’t seem to, either. Even with how swirly his world was getting, he could tell he was focused on him. A positive ache grew in his chest, but it was quickly undermined by the agony.

 

Keith didn’t know how long it was before they made it to his bedroom. It couldn’t have been long, he knew this castle like the back of his own hand. Lance had remained quiet the whole walk, occasionally rubbing his thumb against this fingers, maybe to reassure him, maybe just to remind him that he was there.

 

He did it again when the door shut behind him, and that was when Keith registered that he was in a safe place.

 

It didn’t really matter though, because when Keith turned to face Lance, he was already crying, hot tears running down his cheeks.

 

He watched as maybe shock first drew across the Cuban’s face, almost immediately replaced by an overwhelming wave of concern and understanding. “Oh, babe, come here,” he whispered, opening up his arms, and it was only emotional impulse when Keith jerked forwards.

 

His arms wrapped around Lance’s waist, his whole body beginning to shake with the panicked energy he has held inside for so long, his face tucking into that familiar valley of Lance’s chest. His knees had begun to give out at this point. And it was only when the scent of his spiced cologne hit his nose that Keith allowed himself to believe that this was real. His fingers grasped into Lance’s shirt as he sank with him.

 

“Let it out, it’s okay. Breathe,” he murmured, nothing but tenderness and softness and love in his tone, and that was when Keith really began to cry.

 

His lungs seized with every breath he took as he began to sob quietly, the fire in his throat and in his tightly closed eyes worse than anything. His chest was heavy with an invisible weight, and when his vocal cords began to actually function he could only manage three words.

 

“I hate you,” he sobbed, feeling Lance shift closer, draw him into his lap. “I hate you I hate you I hate you.”

 

A shaky laugh came from the blue paladin and Keith could feel the vibrations in his chest. “Really? Well, okay. Hate me all you want, as long as it makes you feel better,” he said, with a vague attempt at humor in his tongue. 

 

A bubble of a sound escaped Keith as he moved his face from Lance’s chest to his shoulder, body still quivering. He didn’t mean it. He didn’t hate Lance. He had just been so terrified. Terrified that the only person he had ever grown to love the way he did was drifting lost and dead through space somewhere. Terrified that yet another person had walked out of the door on his life and would never come back. Terrified that he could no longer be with him like this. 

 

“N-no, no, I d-don’t hate you,” Keith croaked, withdrawing after a moment to search for those beautiful cobalt eyes, “I just-” 

 

Lance was smiling tiredly, his own layer of tears collected in his eyes. “I know,” he replied softly, rubbing his back. “Do what you have to to feel better, is all I’m saying.” Keith sniffed and couldn’t help it as his head fell back into his boyfriend’s chest, sighing shakily as a kiss was pressed into his hair.

 

Keith didn’t know when he would stop crying. Even if Lance was literally the best person ever and smelled nice and was always there to help him through the shittiest of things, he didn’t know how to pull himself back together. It made him even more scared of what would happen if he actually lost him. His arms tightened in their hug around Lance and he shuddered, squeezing his eyes tightly shut.

 

He wasn’t sobbing anymore, but his chest was jerking every now and again with little hiccups when he tried to breathe. All he could really do was focus on Lance’s warmth, on the soft sensation of Lance’s beating heart, on the pounding of his own. He had no idea how long he had been working this up for. Probably years, at this point. And most of it wasn’t even Lance’s fault.

 

“I love you,” he finally managed to whisper, and another almost hysterical pop of of laughter escaped him. “Just please, never do that again.”

 

“I love you, too.” He felt the Cuban smile into his hair, and a shaky sigh escaped him. Even in his wildly emotional state, Keith wasn’t going to be over being so close to Lance.

 

“You up for bed, cuddlebug? I’m as tired as all hell,” Lance asked gently as Keith nestled closer. He nodded numbly and pulled back a little, only letting go of Lance with one arm to rub a sleeve at his undoubtedly tearstained eyes.

 

When Lance then cupped his face and ran his thumbs over his cheeks, Keith leaned into the touch, hesitantly meeting a tender blue gaze. A soft smile came to the other’s face and he said, “You know, you’re beautiful when you cry.” 

 

That’s when a Keith’s eyes widened and a blush spread across his cheeks, and then came the ugly snort as his heart fluttered. “That’s a lie,” he managed laughingly, tucking face back into that crook between Lance’s shoulder and neck.

 

“No, it’s a truth. You’re just too beautiful to admit it,” Lance laughed back, and Keith just shook his head, making a squeaky sound as he attempted to hide in the blue paladin’s shoulder.

 

He heard a chuckle, then a small hum in return as fingers began to gently run through his hair. There was a short and peaceful silence where Keith managed to start thinking again, soothed by their closeness and matching Lance’s soft and steady breaths with his own.

 

He still didn’t want to let go of him. He got this inclination that the blue-eyed male didn’t want to, either. It was remarkably comforting to think that. That Lance wanted to stay. That one last shiver of anxiety finally rolled up his spine and he sighed, feeling the exhaustion beginning to seep in.

 

“I relate, hotstuff,” Lance commented as he noticed Keith beginning to relax, a smile in his voice. He shifted his grip on him and with a soft huff he got to his feet, picking him up off the ground. Keith honestly thought Lance wasn’t able to do that but there he was, going off and doing it… maybe Lance was a bit stronger than Keith wanted to admit.

 

Lance carried him over to his bed, moving the bundle of blankets and comforter so that he could set him down properly. Keith continued to cling to him, though, looking up at him with his heart in his throat. He really didn’t want Lance to leave.

 

“Stay?” he asked hesitantly, and he watched a shy grin bloom to the other’s face.

 

“I was planning on it, babe.”

 

And then he leant down and softly kissed him, washing away the numb tiredness to be replaced with a softer version, and then Lance climbed into the bed, and he curled closer to him, and it wasn’t more than a few minutes before he was asleep.

 

That was why he didn’t notice when Lance left him later that night.

 


End file.
